Countdown to War, Day 25. 22 July: France getting close to Russia doesn't spell harmony for Germany. And where does Britain fit in?

A hundred years ago today, on Wednesday 22 July 1914, Martin’s group of railwaymen might have read a Manchester Guardian report of the French President’s meeting in Russia with the Tsar. Despite the unfortunate incident earlier, when the President’s ship collided with a Russian barge, it seems things had worked out pretty well in discussions between the French Foreign Minister (who, confusingly, was also the Prime Minister) and his Russian opposite number.

The two Ministers examined in an entire community of views the external questions interesting France and Russia, so as to reach agreement for the establishment of harmony between the two countries in the general policy of Europe.

René Viviani, Prime Minister and Foreign Minister of France
Clearly venerated in his home country as "man of the day"

Harmony sounded good. But – only between the two of them? He knew France loathed the Germans pretty cordially, after all.

“So do the Russians,” said the Cynic, “and they’ve got the biggest army in Europe. Like France has the cleverest. Them two pulling closer together isn’t designed to breed much good feeling towards Germany.”

Looked like the harmony on Russia’s side didn’t extend to Britain, anyway, however close we might be getting to their allies, France.

Commenting on a recent article in a French newspaper under the heading “Silver Wedding of the Alliance,” the “Petersburgski Kurier” takes exception to the favourable opinions expressed by the Paris journal concerning the policy of Great Britain. “We cannot,” it says, “fully concur in this view. Up to the present Great Britain has given no proof whatever of her readiness to pay for the services of France and Russia with services of equal value. We await such proof.”

What the hell? We were supposed to prove to Russia that we’d pay her in services? For what?

Why, even the French were hardly that impressive. Apparently, “the French Minister of War has ordered a Board composed of General Gaudin and Controller General de Boysson, to investigate how the money voted under the Three Year Service Law was applied and the manner in which important defence works have been carried out.”

Ships that run into each other, money misappropriated, and it was up to Britain to prove something to those two...

It probably made more sense to concentrate first on getting the problems on our own doorstep sorted out. And it seemed that the King himself was willing to help, with a conference on the problems of Ireland and Home Rule.

“You think the King takes that kind of decision?” sneered the Cynic.

“The King, the government, whoever,” said Martin.

Invitations have been issued by his Majesty to, and have been accepted by, two representatives of the Opposition, two representatives of the Ulster Unionist party, two representatives of the Irish Nationalist party, and two of his Majesty’s Government.

Yes. Much better that we focus on our own concerns rather than getting too entangled in all these murky goings on among Continental powers. Especially up here in Manchester where we had our own difficulties to deal with, not least, it turned out, on the cricket field:

Lancashire sustained their fifth defeat of the season yesterday at Kennington Oval, when Surrey gained an easy victory.

Problems enough to be going on with, without looking for more of them abroad.

Cricket at the Oval, home of Surrey County Cricket Club

Countdown to War, Day 20. 17 July 1914: a suffragette martyr, more trouble with Carson, the Royal Navy assembles, French airmen get lost

One hundred years ago today, on Friday 17 July 1914, Martin the railwayman would have discovered from his Manchester Guardian that the authorities had succeeded after all in keeping Emmeline Pankhurst from attending the votes for women meeting the day before. Two days ago the paper had quoted her fellow suffragette Mrs Mansel saying that “Mrs. Pankhurst was going to the meeting on Thursday evening, and nothing could stop her.”

There’d been an attempt to get her there; she’d emerged from the house surrounded by the “announced ‘bodyguard’ of clergymen and doctors” who would attempt to prevent her being re-arrested.

Emmeline Pankhurst
Didn't make it to the meeting

Following them came Mrs. Pankhurst on a stretcher, accompanied by some nurses. She was covered with a black evening cloak and looked very pale. A nurse endeavoured to enter the motor ambulance, but was prevented by the police.

In the meantime, Mrs. Pankhurst had been lifted into the motor ambulance, followed by another nurse. Chief Inspector McBrien and Inspector Parker sprang in immediately afterwards. While this was happening a uniformed policeman had got on the seat beside the driver, and before the crowd had fully realised it Mrs. Pankhurst was on her way to Holloway [women’s prison].

“The women still got £15,000 in contributions,” said the young man reading the article, “despite the arrest.”

“Despite?” said the Cynic, “Because. Nothing’s so effective for getting sympathy as martyrdom.”

Home Rule legislation for Ireland was entering its final stages in Parliament. Compromise between Protestant opponents of Home Rule and Catholic nationalists looked as remote as ever.

Communications have taken place to-day between the Prime Minister and Sir Edward Carson. What the result of these was cannot be known, but it may be assumed that no settlement is at present in sight, and that the chance of one is at the moment slender owing to the persistence of the uncompromising attitude taken by the Ulster leader in Belfast last week and since he returned to London.

He smiled a wrily.

“Carson’s a lawyer, but his movement is stockpiling arms. Illegally. Criminally. And the government’s crawling to him. Why don’t they arrest him? Why aren’t they interrogating him instead of negotiating with him?”

“Hold on,” said one of this workmates, “he’s a patriot. He wants to keep the United Kingdom united. A kingdom with Ireland in it.”

“What’s a crime for some,” said the Cynic, “is just a different way of doing the right thing in others. If you’re a loyalist, whatever you do’s loyal, illegal or not.”

Meanwhile, Parliament kept talking about legislation for Ireland. Well, he wished them luck. Legislation was at least preferable to war. And there was no war so bitter as civil war.

Talking of war, what was happening in Europe generally? There at least the alarming news items from yesterday’s paper seemed not to have been followed up by further worrying developments. Unless – what should he make of the massive assembly of the fleet now under way at Portsmouth? Sea and air fleet, in fact – he needed to get used to the fact that there were now airborne weapons too.

Nearly five hundred war vessels comprising the British Home Fleet will be assembled at Spithead during the week-end for the ‘test mobilisation’ and inspection by the King. The first contingent, including most of the bigger battleships and cruisers, steamed into the Solent yesterday and provided a fine spectacle.

It seemed that there had been a “splendid response” to the Admiralty’s call for reservists, “17,000 of whom have joined for eleven days.”

Reservists called up?

The “newly-created air service” would be on display. Overall, the exercise would involve the “most powerful fleet ever known” to have been deployed.

He couldn’t make up his mind whether this was just for show or preparation for something more sinister.

Another story was about “French Airmen Detained”. It sounded bad, but wasn’t. Or perhaps it wasn’t. He couldn’t tell whether there something sinister behind the apparently ridiculous.

A couple of French airmen mistook the Black Forest, in Germany, for the Vosges, in France, got lost and had to land on German soil. It all ended well (though God knows what sort of reception the two flyers came home to), as the Guardian reported:

The army headquarters at Carlsruhe have decided that the aviators shall be allowed to return after a protocol has been drawn up.

He didn’t know what to make of that. Either the French air service was so incompetent that they couldn’t work out where that highly sensitive frontier ran, or they were spying on Germany, which as well as being sinister enough in itself, meant they weren’t smart enough to get away with it, which showed worrying incompetence.

Either way, it wasn’t a story to inspire much confidence in our Entente Cordiale partners.

French Air Force
Needed to learn not to confuse mountain ranges

Countdown to War. Day 8, 5 July: Did someone say war?

One hundred years ago today, on Sunday 5 July 1914, the young Mancunian Martin would have visited his Methodist Minister, to collect the Observer once he’d finished with it.
 
Like the Manchester Guardian the previous day, the Sunday paper reflected on the Entente Cordiale or cordial understanding between France and Britain. 

Now that this instrument of peace and understanding between the two nations is such an accepted, and let us hope a solid, factor in international polity, a certain retrospect is all the more welcome...

Peace and understanding. The hallmark of 1914, as US and Canadian troops showed when they met in Vermont the day before, for joint commemorations of the end of the War of 1812 a hundred years earlier. That was the spirit when “the American Ambassador was the principal guest at a banquet given at the Savoy Hotel last night by the American Society in London in celebration of Independence Day,” an event attended by 250 and which “evoked much enthusiasm.”

As usual, however, neither peace nor understanding were particularly in evidence in Ireland. Although the paper reported on a speech by Tory MP Sir Arthur Steel-Maitland: “the chance of civil war, in his opinion, had become very small,” which ought to be encouraging, Martin remained sceptical. Their denials only reinforced the ideas politicians tried to dismiss, if only because they raised them. In any case, another article, headlined  “Rifles in Belfast”, pointed out that “the South Belfast Regiment of the Ulster Volunteers openly carried rifles and bayonets through the streets of Belfast in a march yesterday afternoon.”

That hardly seemed like a gesture for peace.

It also seemed that the repercussions of the shooting in Bosnia still hadn’t entirely died down, as Martin had begun to believe:

According to a telegram from Sarajevo it has now been ascertained that ten persons were implicated in the conspiracy. They have all been arrested. All telegraph and telephone communications with Sarajevo are now under strict censorship, and are only permitted to be made in German.

Clearly, the Austrians were taking things seriously in their restless province. That was underlined by another piece which, like the comments about Ireland, only increased the fears it was trying to allay:

A semi-official communiqué issued in Budapest warns Servia that although Austria-Hungary does not desire a war with Servia, she expects the Servian Government to fulfil all [its] obligations in connection with “the crime which was undoubtedly promoted in Belgrade.”

War? That word hadn’t been used before. Even mentioning the possibility seemed to raise the spectre of a tragic event being turned into an international disaster.

German troops in the formerly French city of Strasbourg in 1915

Meanwhile elsewhere, another “semi-official” announcement had been issued, this time by the German authorities, for their province of Alsace, seized from France 43 years earlier:

TRICOLOUR BANNED IN ALSACE

A semi-official warning against the wearing of the French colours was published here today. The warning states that it has recently been observed that French colours and badges have been worn in a conspicuous manner, especially by persons returning from excursions across the frontier, and adds that it is desirable to recall the fact that the public display of these colours in an offence punishable under a decree of 1848, which has been confirmed by numerous judicial decisions with imprisonment and fines.

So it seemed that even among local people, tensions were still simmering over which nation should control the province.

The Royal Navy: never stronger

It was unfortunate that France and Germany couldn’t patch up their differences. After all, Britain’s “cordial understanding” with France didn’t prevent her having equally cordial relations with Germany. Why, even their navies, though rivals, got on well enough. The Observer carried an item from Kiel, Germany’s main base on the Baltic:

It is announced that before the departure of the British Squadron from Kiel on Tuesday, Vice-Admiral Sir George Warrender sent the following telegram by wireless from his flagship King Geroge V. to Admiral von Cörper, the commander of the Baltic station:–
“Before leaving Kiel Bay I beg you and the commander-in-chief to accept the hearty thanks of the British Squadron for the magnificent hospitality shown to officers and men, comrades in the past and always.”

Heartwarming.

Countdown to War. Day 7, 4 July: massacres in the Balkans, trouble in Ireland, getting on with the French

One hundred years ago today, on Saturday 4 July 1914, Martin, the young Mancunian railwayman, reading the Manchester Guardian with his workmates, would have seen a chilling report on the horrors inflicted on each other by people in the Balkans.

After reading the carefully documented evidence to be found in the second half of the volume, one is driven to find all the races – Bulgars, Greeks, Serbs and Turks – guilty of massacring upon occasion their enemies, men, women and children, as well the wounded as the whole. Two points should, however, be noted before judgement is passed. The share taken in the fighting by armed bands of irregulars may be held to have justified a severer method of warfare than could be excused in more highly civilised combatants; most of the outrages, and those the most dreadful, were committed by irregulars.

It was some comfort, despite the pity he felt at such tales, to know that he at least belonged to one of the West European nations which had learned to civilise their behaviour, even in war. And had, after all, known forty years of peace.

The paper still had much to say about death in high society, though the Austrian Imperial family seemed to have slipped down the agenda. Several articles dealt with the departure of Joseph Chamberlain two days earlier. The former Radical Mayor of Birmingham had latterly become the champion of Tariff reform, wanting to protect British industry by erecting customs barriers against imports from abroad. He had also emerged as a major figure in favour of Imperialism, opposed in particular to any kind of concession towards Home Rule for Ireland.

The history of English politics between 1892 and 1895 is mainly the story of Mr Chamberlain’s attempt to destroy the Home Rule Administration. For the first two years he attacked Mr. Gladstone in his effort to carry Home Rule by every means known to the skilful Parliamentarian. At last the Grand Old Man’s strength gave way under the strain, and he resigned.

“Important stuff,” said one of his mates, “but it's 1914. Remind me again: when did Gladstone die? He was my Dad’s generation. My Granddad’s.”

“Sixteen years ago,“ came the reply from one of the older tracklayers.

“Yes, more history than news,” said Martin, “Even so, that stuff about Ireland’s still a bit of an issue, isn’t it?”

A point underlined by a story about Ulster Boundaries. The Saturday Review had written to thank the Manchester Guardian for its compliments on a leader article the previous week. The piece had concerned a supposed new map of the north of Ireland allegedly being considered by the government, to draw “an artificial boundary line for Ulster – in order as far as possible to divide the province into Protestant and Roman Catholic areas.” This was a worrying and radical suggestion, “and we should be really glad to know, as a fact, whether the Government is considering an artificial boundary between the Protestant part of Ulster and the rest of Ireland.”

St James's Street in London
Decorated for the visit of French President Emile Loubet in 1903
The year of the signing of the Entente Cordiale

It was links across the Channel rather than across the Irish Sea that drew the intention of a Monsieur Yves Guyot. He had written to underline the importance of the “Entente Cordiale” between France and Britain:

The question as to the use of the formal term “entente” or “alliance” is of no importance. What is really of importance is the conviction that our two countries should lend each other reciprocal support for their mutual security and in the interests of peace.

Yes. We really needed to pull together with the Frogs. Waterloo was nearly a century behind us, after all, and we’d fought the Crimean War together. In an uncertain world, a cordial alliance – or understanding – would offer some welcome stability.

France v England, 1913
England won 20-0. France came bottom of the table.
Those were the days...

Just as long as they didn’t start beating us at rugby in that new-fangled Five Nations championship.